The Straits
by Mercurie
Summary: It's always good to have a co-pilot. Especially on long journeys. - Aeryn Sun and Kara Thrace find they each have what the other needs. Aeryn Sun/Kara Thrace. Rated M for sexual content.


**Title:** The Straits

**Written for: **anonymous prompt at ladykink

**Rating:** Adult

**Warnings:** none

**Summary:** "It's always good to have a co-pilot. Especially on long journeys."

* * *

The fist to her gut is nothing new. Kara Thrace has been in more fights than she can remember on this godsforsaken moon alone. The only difference is that it's a human this time. The first human face she's seen since flying into that unholy storm.

She does her best to smash it in. A swing and a miss and the hangar bay is spinning. At least the drink is strong here, thank the gods, she would've gone crazy – crazier – by now without that one small mercy. A hand grabs her flailing elbow, using the momentum from her drunken punch to slam her up against the side of the ship she'd been trying to steal.

"Come near my Prowler again," the woman says in her ear, "and I'll kill you." She tosses Kara to the ground like so much trash. "Though by the looks of you, I might be doing you a favor."

Kara looks up at the first human face she's seen in a year, angular, regal, framed by a waterfall of black hair, and can't help but laugh. It's the truth. She needs that favor, anyone's favor at this point, because it seems like no matter how bad her life gets, there's always something even worse waiting around the next bend. Another nightmare twist.

She kicks the woman's legs out from under her and lunges for her throat.

* * *

Later, she buys Aeryn Sun a drink with stolen money. The glasses are dirty in their bruised hands and the metal grid table leaves imprints on their elbows. Aeryn's got bruises on her neck; Kara can feel the shiner on her cheek throbbing with every heartbeat. A purple scaly thing at the next table over steals glances at them and mutters something about 'peacekeepers.' She supposes it's a joke.

"You're a long way from Sebacean territory," Aeryn says. "My Prowler couldn't have gotten you anywhere close. You should be looking for a transport ship."

"Wherever that is," Kara says, slurring, "the place I'm looking for is even farther. I don't suppose you know the way to Earth?"

Aeryn chokes on her drink and for a moment there's something in her eyes, some kind of terror. A terrified, tired recognition. Then it's gone and she drains her glass and lets it clank onto the table.

"You're from Earth," she says calmly.

"Nope. Just looking for it."

An opaque gaze measures her. Aeryn's face is stark in the bright starlight. The bar is just a cave, really, a burrow in the moon's surface; the patrons, bottles, stools are all layered with gray rock dust and grime. But the top is open, covered by a clear ceiling, and light from the nearby star cluster provides this place's one claim to charm. Aeryn shakes her head, hair rippling. There are silver strands in it.

"Do you ever feel like your life is going in circles?" she says. "Like all of this has happened before?"

"And all of it will happen again," Kara finishes as a shiver creeps over her. Her teeth ring against glass when she raises her drink to her lips with a lightly shaking hand. Destiny again. Destiny closing in on her. Words and signs she can never escape.

"Will it?" Aeryn asks, looking away. She gets up abruptly, and leaves Kara sitting alone with the starlight and the stolen glances from monsters and the chills.

* * *

They run into each other everywhere. Kara can tell Aeryn is avoiding her, but the station isn't big enough to hide in. They're stuck here together, a stop-over that grabbed hold of them both, a narrow place choked off from the wide freedom of space (only the windows give glimpses of the universe she sometimes can't believe still exists).

Kara's used to enclosed spaces but she still dreams of the sky, the open mouth of this tunnel, the sea beyond the straits.

* * *

Her excuse is that she hasn't seen another human being in a year. No, frak that: she doesn't need an excuse, not for this. She lets her hands slide up Aeryn's stomach as she buries her tongue in the other woman' s mouth. They're in one of the disused observation bubbles, a tiny haven barely larger than a closet jutting just above the moon's surface. It's daytime: the planet they're orbiting hangs in the sky, parched and crimson, poisonous, beautiful.

"Human," Aeryn says against her lips. "You can tell from the temperature." Then she sighs and pulls Kara's hips against hers, finger hooked into a belt loop. There's a hint of surrender in the movement.

Kara doesn't ask what that means because she's too busy dragging her teeth along Aeryn's neck, over the bruises. Her hands find Aeryn's breasts, pressing against cool skin, relishing the familiar rush of heat the sensation sends pooling between her legs. She aches all over, not just from fighting.

Aeryn tears open the front of Kara's pants, fingers slipping inside and oh, frak yes, pressing into her. Kara rolls her hips, biting down on Aeryn's shoulder. It feels truer than anything has for years. Her life is a dream; Aeryn digging into her, stilling the hunger, this is the reality. She flashes back to another place, long ago, far away, clean sheets and the warm human smell of a man. She remembers it like something read in a book. That wasn't Kara Thrace. This is Kara Thrace, moaning in the red planetlight, an alien woman frakking her on some lost speck of dust in the wilderness of the galaxy.

She hears someone come into the bubble behind her. Aeryn doesn't stop, just pulls the gun from her hip holster with her free hand and shoots without even looking. There's a flash of bright yellow and a shriek. Footsteps retreat rapidly. Aeryn laughs and Kara quakes when she feels the low rumble of it through the other woman's throat. Gods, she's found someone who can shoot and frak at the same time. She thinks she could fall in love.

* * *

"Fixed," Aeryn says. She leans against the Prowler, prepped to leave. It's just them in the hangar bay again. Kara contemplates throwing another punch. She thinks of this dreary rock without Aeryn on it, knows even the drink won't be able to save her this time. Then Aeryn says something impossible and she forgets about such practicalities.

"I've been there. To Earth."

Kara's heart thuds like a hammer against an anvil. She closes her eyes, reminds herself to breathe.

"It's real?"

"You didn't know?" Aeryn stares, eyebrows raised.

"Not for sure. We've—I've been looking for years. But I didn't know for sure."

"It's real. I was there with someone, a long time ago."

Kara nods. That's a piece falling into place. She wants to know more. Aeryn's tight-lipped, but Kara can tell she's got secrets, hidden losses, carefully guarded suffering. It's all tied up with Earth somehow, like that one little planet she's never seen is the knot in the tangle of everyone's hopes. Maybe when she finally gets there, she'll understand it all. Even Aeryn. And now she knows she can get there.

"You got room in there for two?" she asks, jerking her chin at the Prowler. She's recognized the invitation for what it is.

Aeryn gives a half-smile. "It's always good to have a co-pilot. Especially on long journeys."

Kara mirrors the smile. There's a path opening up where she least expected to find one. She's ready for it—ready to fly into another storm. Frak destiny, she has a ship.

She gives Aeryn a playful punch to the shoulder and vaults up into the Prowler.


End file.
